"Come to us, if you love us," and still no letter or message came back,
a new cloud of anxiety fell over the house.
Reginald must be ill, or away from Liverpool, or something must have
happened to him, or assuredly, they said, he would have been at his
mother's side at the first breath of danger.
Mrs Shuckleford only, as day passed day, and the prodigal never
returned, shook her head and said to herself, it was a blessing no one
knew the reason, not even the poor delirious sufferer herself. Poor
people! they had trouble enough on them not to need any more just now!
so she kept her own counsel, even from Jemima.
This was the more easy to do because she knew nothing either of Reginald
or his doings beyond what her son had hinted, and as Samuel was at
present in the country on business, she had no opportunity of
prosecuting her inquiries on the subject.
Sam, in fact, whether he liked it or not, happened just now to hold the
fortunes of the family of Cruden pretty much in his own hands.
A few days before the conversation with his mother already reported, he
had been sitting in his room at the office, his partner and the head
clerk both being absent on County Court business.
Samuel felt all the dignity of a commander-in-chief, and was therefore
not at all displeased when the office-boy had come and knocked at his
door, and said that a lady of the name of Wrigley had called, and wished
to see him.
"Show the lady in," said Sam grandly, "and put a chair."
Mrs Wrigley was accordingly ushered in, the dust of travel still on
her, for she had come direct from Liverpool by the night train,
determined to put her wrongs in the hands of the law. Mr Crawley,
Samuel's principal, had been legal adviser to the late Mr Wrigley; it
was only natural, therefore, that the widow, not liking to entrust her
secret to the pettifogging practitioner of her own village, should make
use of a two hours' break in her journey to seek his aid.
"Your master's not in, young man?" said she, as she took the proffered
seat. "That's a pity."
"I'm sure he'll be very sorry," said Sam; "but if it's anything I can
do--"
"If you can save poor defenceless women from being plundered, and punish
those that plunder them--then you can."
Here was a slice of luck for Samuel! The first bit of practice on his
own account that had ever fallen in his way. If he did not make a good
thing out of it his initials were not S.S.!
He drew his chair confidentially beside that of the injured Mrs
Wrigley, and drank in the story of her woes with an interest that quite
won her heart. At first he failed to recognise either the name of the
delinquent Corporation or its secretary, but when presently his client
produced one of the identical circulars sent out, with the name Cruden
Reginald at the foot, his professional instincts told him he had
discovered a "real job, and no mistake."
He made Mrs Wrigley go back and begin her story over again (a task she
was extremely ready to perform), and took copious notes during the
recital. He impounded the document, envelope and all, cross-examined
and brow-beat his own witness--in fact, did all a rising young lawyer
ought to do, and concluded in judicial tones, "Very good, Mrs Wrigley;
I think we can do something for you. I think we know something of the
parties. Leave it to us, madam; we will put you right."
"I hope you will," said the lady. "You see, as I've been all the way up
to Liverpool and back, I think I ought to be put right."
"Most certainly you ought, and you shall be."
"And to think of his brazen-faced impudence in calling me `Love,' young
man. There's a profligate for you!"
Samuel was knowing enough to see that it would greatly please the
outraged lady if he took a special note of this disclosure, which he
accordingly did, and then rising, once more assured his client of his
determination to put her right, and bade her a very good morning.
"Well, if that ain't a go," said he to himself, as he returned to his
desk. "I never did have much faith in the chap, but I didn't fancy he
was that sort. Cruden Reginald, eh? Nice boy you are. Never mind!
I'm dead on you this time. Nuisance it is that ma's gone and mixed
herself up with that lot. Can't be helped, though; business is
business; and such a bit of practice too. Cruden Reginald! But you
don't get round Sam Shuckleford when he's once round your way, my
beauty."
To the legal mind of Sam this transposition of Reginald's name was in
itself as good as a verdict and sentence against him. Any one else but
himself might have been taken in by it, but you needed to get up very
early in the morning to take in a cute one like S.S.!
He said nothing about the affair to his principal when he returned,
preferring to "nurse" it as a little bit of business of his own, which
he would manage by himself for once in a way.
And that very evening fortune threw into his way a most unexpected and
invaluable auxiliary.
He was down at his "club," smoking his usual evening pipe over the
_Rocket_, when a man he had once or twice seen before in the place came
up and said,--
"After you with that paper."
"All serene," said Sam; "I'll be done with it in about an hour."
"You don't take long," said the other.
"Considering I'm on the committee," said Sam, with ruffled dignity,
"I've a right to keep it just as long as I please. Are you a member
here?"
"No, but I'm introduced."
"What's your name?"
"Durfy."
"Oh, you're the man who was in the _Rocket_. I heard of you from a
friend of mine. By the way," and here his manner became quite civil, as
a brilliant idea occurred to him, "look here, it was only my chaff about
keeping the paper; you can have it. I'll look at it afterwards."
"All right, thanks," said Durfy, who felt no excuse for not being civil
too.
"By the way," said Sam, as he was going off with the paper, "there was a
fellow at your office, what was his name, now--Crowder, Crundell? Some
name of that sort--I forget."
"Cruden you mean, perhaps," said Durfy, with a scowl.
"Ah, yes--Cruden. Is he still with you? What sort of chap is he?"
Durfy described him in terms far more forcible than affectionate, and
added, "No, he's not there now; oh no. I kicked him out long ago. But
I've not done with him yet, my boy."
Sam felt jubilant. Was ever luck like his? Here was a man who
evidently knew Reginald's real character, and could, doubtless, if
properly handled, put him on the scent, and, as he metaphorically put it
to himself, "give him a clean leg up over the job."
So he called for refreshments for two, and then entered on a friendly
discourse with Durfy on things in general, and offered to make him a
member of the club; then bringing the conversation round to Reginald, he
hinted gently that _he_ too had his eye on that young gentleman, and was
at the present moment engaged in bowling him out.
Whereupon Durfy, after a slight hesitation, and stipulating that his
name should not be mentioned in the matter, gave Sam what information he
considered would be useful to him, suppressing, of course, all mention
of the real promoters of the Select Agency Corporation, and giving the
secretary credit for all the ingenuity and cunning displayed in its
operations.
The two new friends spent a most agreeable evening, Sam flattering
himself he was squeezing Durfy beautifully into the service of his "big
job," and Durfy flattering himself that this bumptious young pettifogger
was the very person to get hold of to help him pay off all his old
scores with Reginald Cruden.